


Nostalgic for Suicide

by da_petty



Series: All The World's A Stage [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John Watson, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Brothels, Dildos, Fantasy Fulfillment, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Knotting Dildos, Lube, M/M, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Prostitution, Rimming, SO MUCH LUBE, Self-Lubrication, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Sexual Roleplay, So many dildos, Suppositories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-05-29 04:57:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15065633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: Mycroft drops off a new script set in the Omegaverse for John and Sherlock to perform. Sherlock's never heard of the Omegaverse but John is willing to teach him.**This is NOT an actual Omegaverse fic. It's all acting. John and Sherlock are performing a story that just happens to take place in the Omegaverse. Everything in this series are just script based scenes that the boys act out. So, no matter what the storyline is, the basic premise - that it's just pretend - never changes.I hope that helps.





	1. The Script Arrives

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Not Brit picked. 
> 
> I don't know how many chapters this will turn into but the warnings will change accordingly becoming very sexually graphic as the story progresses.
> 
> I hope it makes you laugh and maybe squirm in your seat a little.

“No. Absolutely not!” Sherlock’s shout could be heard through the bathroom door, behind which John was toweling himself off after his shower.

“Sherlock. You have no choice in the matter. You owe me a favor and I’m calling it in.”

‘Mycroft was here? When had that happened?’ John thought, hurriedly pulling on jeans and a forrest green jumper.

No good ever came of leaving Sherlock and Mycroft alone together. It seemed as if it was impossible for them to have a civil discussion without a referee to moderate and break things up when it became ugly. And it always became ugly. 

John hurriedly reached for the doorknob, hand still damp from the shower; it slipped off causing him to lose his balance followed shortly by his forehead thunking against the bathroom door. 

“Fuck!” He said, clutching his head.

“Sounds like John is attempting to make an appearance. Who knew that opening doors could be so challenging.” Mycroft said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Fuck off, Mycroft,” said John, walking into the living room, rubbing at his slightly reddened forehead.

“Careful, Doctor, your soldier is showing,” quipped Mycroft. 

John rolled his eyes in response. He didn’t know why he wasted his breath talking to the man. It never got him anywhere and only frustrated the hell out of him.

“Just, give me the packet and get out, Mycroft. I’ve had about as much of you as I can stomach for the moment.” Sherlock said, holding out his hand.

“So impatient, Sherlock. I’ve been trying to give this to you for over a quarter of an hour. Here.” Mycroft said, slapping the document into Sherlock’s outstretched hand.

Sherlock had already opened the envelope and begun leafing through the paperwork when Mycroft interrupted him by placing a box on top of it.

Lifting only his eyes, Sherlock glared and said, “Thank you, Mycroft, but I won’t be requiring any more shoes.”

“They’re not shoes. This kit goes with the project.” 

Mycroft and Sherlock just stared at each other, neither one willing to either ask a question, or give more information. 

Sighing, John said, “Alright. I give up. What’s in the box?” John asked, laughing a little under his breath.

“John. I can assure you that there is NOT a head in the box.” Mycroft said, his lips quirking up, albeit, begrudgingly.

John laughed again and Sherlock suddenly became interested.

“What about hands? Are there hands in here?” Sherlock said, shaking the box but only a solid thump was heard.

“Far be it for me to suggest something to the genius detective…”

“Consulting genius detective,” Sherlock interrupted, now pressing his ear against the lid while somehow still shaking the box.

“…but you could just open the box and look.” 

“Obviously,” Sherlock sniffed, removing the lid from the box followed by a layer of tissue paper which he promptly threw on the floor. A long moment passed in complete silence. Sherlock just staring into the box.

“Well? What is it?” 

“I…I…” Sherlock stammered. “It’s a lot of…things. You tell me.” Sherlock said, shoving the box into John’s already outstretched arms.

Taking the box over to the kitchen table and setting it down, John began removing items, announcing what they were, one at a time. It was quite suspenseful.

“Dildo,” John said, laying it on the table. Reaching into the box again, John pulled a larger dildo out and placed that next to its companion on the table.

“Two dildos? Why?” Sherlock asked.

“No idea, but we should probably find that out sooner, rather than later,” John said, holding up a third dildo. This one with a suction cup attached to the bottom.

“There’s more stuff in here, Sherlock,” John said.

Sherlock just waved a hand at John to continue.

“Lube…that’s…that’s a lot of lube, Mycroft. A WHOLE lot. No wonder the box was so heavy.” 

“Mycroft! Were you aware of the contents of this box?” Sherlock demanded.

“Naturally. It’s my job to be completely aware of each mission,” Mycroft said, blushing to the roots of his hair.

“I find it extremely distasteful that my brother is viewing the “missions” involving porn and my person,” Sherlock said in exasperation.

“No more than I, brother mine. However, I must review everything before giving it to you so that I can determine whether or not you’ll be able to fulfill the obligation as submitted.” 

John didn’t miss the calculating look in Mycroft’s eyes as he made that statement. He knew damned well that Sherlock’s ego would never allow him to admit that he could possibly fail at anything. He was just goading him to accept the job in order to avoid anymore fuss. 

John also wished Mycroft would leave. He was anxious to see what type of scenario this mystery client had written for them. John smiled to himself. Some were actually quite inventive. This could be fun.

“I’m up to any task that you send my way, Mycroft, of which you’re fully aware!”

Yep, thought John. Here we go. For someone so brilliant, Sherlock fell for this every time. 

John was fairly certain that Sherlock was aware of these traps but couldn’t or wouldn’t, stop himself from falling into them. With John, it was his temper that caused him to snap. For Sherlock, it was too much pride.

“Glad to hear it. Well, as lovely as this has been, I have lunch scheduled with the Prime Minister in 40 minutes…” Mycroft said, turning towards the door.

“Oh, your favorite type of meeting. One that involves eating. Be sure to avoid the fatty foods. You know how it upsets your delicate constitution.” Sherlock said, ushering Mycroft to the door.

Ignoring that last comment, Mycroft said, “The timeline for the project is attached to the front page of the script. Start date is tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Mycroft,” Sherlock said as he closed the door on his brother’s retreating back. He returned to where John was still going through the amazing amount of items that had been in the box.

“Great. ANOTHER dildo.” John said, laying it down on the table where three others of various sizes had already been lined up.

“Good lord! Not one of those stories again!” Sherlock exclaimed. 

Just then, Sherlock noticed that Mycroft had left his umbrella leaning against a chair. Picking it up, he told John, “I’ll be right back.”

Hurrying to the door, Sherlock opened it and yelled down the stairs, “Mycroft. You forgot this.” 

“Oh. Right…” John heard Mycroft begin.

Then, without a moment’s hesitation, Sherlock launched the umbrella down the stairs smacking Mycroft in the arse causing him to stumble. Sherlock slammed the door on Mycroft’s outraged face and turned to John.

“What?”

John was feeling a bit torn. He knew that Sherlock had behaved badly but felt that Mycroft had had it coming so he was just going to let it go but he fully intended to replay it again at a later date and fill in the details that he hadn’t been able to see. Such as the look on Mycroft’s face. Instead, he said,

“Nothing. Nothing.” 

“Good. Continue.”

“Ok? Oh. This is new,” John said, lifting what appeared to be a hollow dildo with a fairly large protrusion on one end.

“I guess you wear this thing on your cock?” John said, holding said object in front of his trousers as if to see whether or not it would fit.

“We’re both well endowed. Why on earth would that be necessary?” Sherlock asked.

“No idea. Perhaps this is where reading the script would help.”

“I was getting to that,” Sherlock huffed. He picked up the envelope, removed the script and read the title page.

“What on earth does this mean?” Sherlock said.

“I’ve no idea. You haven’t told me the title yet.”

“‘Omega Brothel’”

“Well, that explains these,” John said, holding up a foil lined blister back.

“What are those?”

“Suppositories.” 

“No. I’m calling Mycroft! He knows very well that I refuse to do any projects that might even be slightly scatalogical!”

“What about enemas? We both take one before we begin these types of, uh, missions,” John said reasonably.

“John, you know very well that that’s strictly preparation of the transport for scripts including anal intercourse.”

“Sure it is,” John replied.

“Was that sarcasm?!”

“When have I ever been known to say something sarcastic?” John said, sarcastically. 

Looking at John through narrowed eyes, Sherlock said, “Just tell me. What does the title mean? Is it math porn? IS there such a thing as math porn? And, if so, what exactly does that entail? Sounds intriguing.”

“It’s not math,” John said, holding up a hand as Sherlock opened his mouth to comment.

“It’s not to do with wolves either. Well, the idea is but no real wolves were harmed in the making of this porn,” John laughed.

Sherlock just stared at him, nonplussed. 

“Just explain it and how suppositories could be remotely related. And rather large suppositories at that.”

“Ok,” John started, “You know that the scripts we’re given are fan fiction, right? That is; fiction written by fans based on a preexisting novel, movie, show, etc, story. Right?”

“Yes. Yes. We’ve been doing this for over a year, John. You’ve explained that to me ages ago and I have quite a good memory, as your well aware,” Sherlock said in an annoyed, read; normal, tone of voice.

“Ok. Well…not quite sure how to explain this…” John began.

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Do you want me to explain this to you or not?” John said, a frown marring his normally placid face.

“Carry on.”

“So, supposedly, the Omegaverse was originally invented by Supernatural fans and then became a trope all on it’s own which is now used in all types of fan fiction.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “These people think that they’re supernatural? Preposterous.”

Sighing, John said, “It’s the name of a show on the telly.” This was going to take forever to explain.

FOUR HOURS LATER

“So, you’re saying that Omega biology forces them to want sex when they’re in “heat” and they don’t care who their partner is so long as they’re an Alpha?” Sherlock was still trying to wrap his head around this. 

“It depends on the fan fiction writer and which universe they’re working in…” John began.

“You said that it was the Omegaverse. That’s self-explanatory.”

“Just. Look. There are Omegaverse guidelines but people adapt it to suit their stories.”

“I don’t care.”

“What do you mean, you don’t care? We’ve been talking about this for hours now.”

“Bored. Let’s just read the script and I’ll let you know if I have any questions. Besides, I found this Omegaverse primer online while you were going on and on about ‘slick’. Sounds disgusting.”

“Well, that brings us to the suppositories, if you’re still interested, that is.”

“Ah. Right. Do go on.”

John scratched his head, now seemingly becoming awkward. “So, you know what ‘slick’ is now, right?”

“Yes. John. Good memory,” Sherlock said, tapping his forehead. “Not so sure about yours though.”

“Right, so…the suppositories will create the ‘slick’ necessary for the person acting as the Omega to, uh…simulate having their own ‘slick’,” John finished lamely.

“Please stop saying ‘slick’. It’s repugnant.”

“Well, you’re the genius. What name would you prefer we use?”

Sherlock thought for a moment. “Technically it’s lubrication but since we already have something commonly accepted as “lubrication”, we’ll need something to differentiate it…”

“But ‘slick’ is unacceptable?”

“Completely.”

“Ok. Then what else?”

“Hmmm…let’s see…” Sherlock said, eyes rolling up as he tried to come up with a suitable replacement.

“Ah HAH! I have it!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Can’t wait to hear this.” John muttered under his breath.

“Secretion! It’s supposed to be glandular, correct? That’s more apropos.”

“Ugh. ‘Secretion’?! You think that’s better than ‘slick’?”

“’Slick’ is a misnomer, John.”

“It’s not. It says exactly what it means.”

“So does secretion. You call it what you like but I won’t acknowledge any word other than ‘secretion’ or a derivative there of,” Sherlock said smugly.

“Fine. ‘Secretion’ it is. Let’s get to our roles. What is our orientation?”

Sherlock read the outline, looked up at John and said, “No. NO NO NO NO NO NO!”

“What is it?”

Sherlock handed the outline to John who read aloud;

“John Watson - Alpha. Sherlock Holmes - Omega” and he started to laugh.

“It’s not funny, John!”

“It is, though. It really, really is,” John replied, now holding his stomach while he laughed.

“Why am I always the bottom? Why?”

And that made John laugh even harder.

“Wait!” Sherlock held up a hand, palm out, “This is called ‘Omega Brothel’. Does that mean…that I’m a prostitute? AGAIN?”

Clutching his stomach with one hand and wiping tears from his eyes with the other, John laughed himself right off of the couch and onto the floor.

John was still on the floor, laughing, when he heard Sherlock’s bedroom door slam.

“Sherlock! It’ll be fun! I’ll be gentle! Promise!!” John shouted at the closed door.

Sitting up, John gave a few hiccuping laughs, wiped at his eyes again, and hauled himself off of the floor and back onto the couch. His sides hurt from laughing so hard.

Sherlock abruptly opened his bedroom door, looked at John and said hopefully, “We could switch…”

“No.”

“Bugger!” Sherlock said and slammed his door shut again which only caused John to explode into peals of laughter again.

Yes, this was going to be a lot of fun.


	2. Deja Vu All Over Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the undressed rehearsal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not thrilled with this chapter. It's not as hot as I'd hoped. Still, the actual play hasn't begun yet so hopefully things will start smoking then.

“JOHN!” Sherlock shouted from his bedroom.

John, script in hand, sat in his chair in the living room preparing to re-read the script for the fifth time. 

The first time he’d read it, he’d laughed. On the second pass, he laughed even harder. On the third pass, he started paying attention to the sex scenes and his cock woke up. On the fourth pass, he had his hand down his pants while rereading the sexiest bits. 

Turning the page on the dog eared script with one hand, bottle of lotion in the other, pants already undone, John was so hard that he had to get off. Now. He’d get to Sherlock later, certain that he just wanted his mobile brought to him.

‘Not today,’ John thought, opening the bottle of lotion.

John had been reading a particularly hot bit in the script - he’d already decided that he was going to need several ‘takes’ of that scene - when Sherlock called again.

“Goddamn it, Sherlock!” It was true that Sherlock was the worst cock blocker in John’s experience but now he’d moved onto blocking his own private time with his cock. 

John slapped the script on the end table, stood and zipped up his pants. He’d only walked two steps before realizing that he still had the lotion in his hand. He walked over to the kitchen table and slammed the bottle on the table.

‘Shit!’ He’d forgotten to close the bottle. Lotion flying everywhere.

“John! Are you coming or not?” Sherlock whined.

John’s cock was now at half mast; apparently he’d given up all hope as well. Wiping his hands on a dishcloth to remove the lotion that now covered them, he turned and walked slowly to Sherlock’s bedroom.

Opening the door, John saw Sherlock naked on the bed, on all fours, foam bubbling from his arsehole.

“Well, this is new,” John said.

“I’m trying to get ready for the first scene which requires…secretion…in order to imitate an Omega in heat and I can’t get this damned suppository into my rectum. Every time I try, it only slides around my anus without penetration. Now, for some unknown reason, it’s started foaming up and I’m unable to maintain a grip long enough to progress any further. I’m afraid that I require your assistance in this matter.” 

Sherlock turned his head and gave John a look of incredulity.

“You couldn’t even wait until we started? You had to go have a wank while I’m in here trying to work?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Sherlock.”

Sherlock turned onto his side, giving John a long look from his face to his crotch, began;

“Here, I’ll deduce it for you,” Gesturing in the general direction of John’s cock, he said, “First of all,” you have sperm covering your clothes as well as your face…”

John looked down and patted at his trousers and jumper. Hand lotion. Then he raised a hand to his face and…more hand lotion.

“No. That’s not what…” John began.

“Second, and most damning, you’re penis is still partially erect indicating that you’ve clearly just had an orgasm.”

“Well, I give up. You’ve caught me. I was in the living room having a mad wank when you called so I had to finish in a hurry which lead to these results,” John said, giving a magician’s ‘ta dah!” wave of his hand to his body.

“Well, hopefully you’ll become erect when we begin the scene.”

“No worries on that account. I’ll be ready,” John smirked.

“Come over here and help me with this. I think these things are defective,” Sherlock said, holding up the allegedly defective suppository which promptly slid between his fingers and onto the bed.

“See what I mean? These won’t work.”

“They’ll work. You’re just doing it wrong.”

Looking affronted, Sherlock said, “It’s not that complicated. The suppository goes into the rectum. Even you could figure that out.”

“RIght. Let me just step into the loo to wash my hands and then I’ll show you how to insert one correctly.”

“I WAS inserting it correctly!” Sherlock shouted as John headed towards the bathroom.

There was the sound of water running. It seemed to go on a bit too long in Sherlock’s opinion.

“What are you doing in there?!”

“No need to shout. I’ve brought you a warm flannel so that you could clean up before we begin. Here. Catch.” John threw the damp flannel which Sherlock caught midair, and began vigorously wiping at his hands. Sherlock then handed the flannel back to John expectantly.

“Well?” Sherlock asked.

“Well what? Aren’t you going to clean your arse too?”

“That’s not my job, John,” Sherlock said primly.

“Not your job?” John was flabbergasted. “Since when has it become my job to wipe your arse for you?”

“Since I need your assistance in this particular area and you’re the one who will require a…clean workspace, so to speak, so you should tidy things up to your satisfaction. I can’t see my own anus, John.”

John stared at Sherlock waiting for him to say that he’d been joking. Sherlock sat there, looking expectant.

“Fine. Hands and knees, arse in the air,” John sighed resignedly.

Sherlock did as he was bid, looking ridiculous with his arse in the air and his head resting on his folded arms, arse foaming like a rabid dog. John thought that, under different circumstances, that particular position would be incredibly sexy to him. Wiping someone else’s arse was definitely not sexy.

John began to gently remove the foam which had now deflated and was mostly a liquid taking on the properties of the fictional slick. ‘Secretions’ John corrected himself silently. God, that sounds dumb.

“Stop!” Sherlock yelled.

“Oh. For fuck’s sake. What’s wrong now?” John said, resting an elbow on one of Sherlock’s perfect cheeks. 

“It’s cold now, John. COLD! You need to warm it up again.”

John didn’t reply, he only turned around and went into the bathroom where the sound of water running - again - could be heard.

“Not too hot, John!”

John turned off the tap and hung his head. Then he lifted it back up and stared at his grinning face in the mirror.

“I’m the Alpha and payback’s a bitch.” Wringing out the flannel, John stepped back into the bedroom and began methodically removing what remained of the melted suppository, throwing the remainder in the bin. 

“How much longer?” Sherlock whined.

Throwing the flannel down, John said, “Done. Open your thighs a bit so that so that your cheeks are spread wider. That’s it.”

John picked up the blister back from the end table and tore off another suppository. He began peeling the foil back, saying;

“Do you want to know where you went wrong?”

“I did NOT ‘go wrong’, the directions are obviously lacking.”

“Nope. Says right on the box to ‘store suppositories in a cool, dark place’. You couldn’t have possibly thought that meant your arsehole. Could you?”

“Of course not! And it’s relatively cool in here so that shouldn’t have been a problem. No doubt about it; they’re defective.”

“That might have been the case had you stored the pack in your night table, instead you left it directly under your lamp causing all of them to soften. Then, when you tried to use one, the heat of your fingertips began melting the already softened bullet, so to speak. And that takes us directly to your foaming arsehole.”

“I really do wish you’d stop with the vulgarity, John. It’s not attractive.” Sherlock said, completely ignoring the possibility that he hadn’t known what he was doing.

“You like it well enough when I’m sliding my cock into that greedy little hole of yours.” John used the fingers of his left hand and gently spread Sherlock’s cheeks, exposing his lovely little starfish.

“That’s different! That’s sex. People say things during sex that they might not say in daily life. I believe it’s called ‘pillow talk’. Preparation for a scene isn’t remotely sexy,” Sherlock finished, somehow managing to look demure even while on his knees with his arse in the air.

“Really? Not sexy? Hold on a tick.” John stepped over to the night stand put the quickly melting suppository down on the opened wrapper, and removed a bottle of lube.

“What are you doing?”

“Lube will allow easier penetration.” John said, squeezing the bottle and depositing lube onto his fingers. “They’re quite large so it’s best not to just try to shove one in there without relaxing your sphincter a bit first.”

“Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” Sherlock demanded.

“I guess I forgot.”

“Forgot? How could you forget? You just read the directions!!!” Sherlock squealed as John suddenly slid a finger into Sherlock.

“Sorry. Sorry.” John patted Sherlock’s arse reassuringly, while slowly fucking him with his index finger.

“You could give a person warning!” Sherlock said indignantly.

After a few pumps with one finger, John warned Sherlock,

“Inserting second finger now.”

“Two? They’re not THAT big! Oh god!” Sherlock groaned as John’s second finger slid home.

“How’s that? Comfortable?” John asked, tilting his head to the side to see Sherlock’s face.

“Fff…fine.”

“You sound a little breathless there. Am I hurting you?” John knew that he wasn’t, continuing his slow tease of Sherlock’s arsehole.

“Nnooo,” Sherlock moaned.

“Good to know. Third finger.” John said, easing in said finger.

“Three fingers? How big ARE these things?! The one that I was using wasn’t THAT big. Uhng!” Sherlock arched his back and pushed back reflexively onto John’s fingers.

“Should I stop then?” John asked, smiling as he subtly leaned over to see how Sherlock’s cock was doing. Rock hard. Perfect. 

“No! No. Don’t stop. I…I don’t think that I’m completely ready yet.”

John pumped his fingers into Sherlock a few more times then stopped.

“I think that it’s time for the suppository. It’s going to dissolve before I even get it near your arsehole.” John paused. “Sorry. Anus.”

“It’s fine, use whatever language you like. I might have been a little too hasty in correcting you earlier.” Sherlock’s breath hitching as John removed his fingers and reached over the grab the rapidly melting suppository.

“Oh. If you’re sure.” John said slyly as he pressed the bullet gently against Sherlock’s hole.

“I’m sure. Oh god. I’m sure.”

“Here we go.” With his index finger placed in the dimple on the bottom of the suppository, he slowly eased it inside until his finger was seated up to his third knuckle. It was met with very little resistance.

“Are you ok?” John asked, beginning to remove his finger.

“Fine. Shouldn’t…shouldn’t you leave your finger in to ensure that it’s dissolving properly?”

“It was already dissolving before it was inserted. I’m actually thinking that we might have to add another one in case this one doesn’t provide enough lubrication.” John said, keeping his finger firmly inside Sherlock’s rectum. He slid his finger slowly out and back in again.

“Another? Well, if you think it’s absolutely necessary.” Sherlock moaned.

“Oh. I do. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable during the rough sex we’re about to have. The Omegaverse is all about Alpha’s taking their Omega in a frenzied manner once a heat has started.” John thrust his finger in and out one more time before removing it completely.

“Is it? I might have skimmed over that part.” Sherlock said between deep breaths.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can stop.” But John was already peeling the foil off of another bullet and readying it for insertion.

“John, I said that I was fine. I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” Sherlock said impatiently between moans.

“If you’re sure then.” John placed his left hand back on Sherlock’s cheek and said, “Last one,” as he slid the last suppository home.

“God. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” Sherlock panted.

“I should make sure that this one is in far enough. Second finger.”

“That’s good. That’s nice. Just to be sure.” Sherlock was breathing heavily by now and beginning to ramble.

“I think that I might need to add another finger…”

“Absolutely! Do that!”

John smiled as he added a third finger and began fucking Sherlock. He could feel that the first suppository was completely melted and the second would soon follow. Finger fucking Sherlock Holmes wasn’t necessary but it WAS fun and they both seemed to be enjoying it so John carried on with what he was doing.

“John. I think that I might be suffering a side effect of that drug. My penis is so engorged that it hurts.” 

“I should probably check on that then. You know. Just to make sure that everything is ok.”

“You’re a good doctor, John.”

“I am indeed,” John said, sliding his left hand down Sherlock’s flank, grasped Sherlock’s cock and squeezed.

“It’s…do you see what I mean?” Sherlock said on a breathy whisper.

“You’re right. This must be painful.” John said as he slowly slid his hand from the head of Sherlock’s cock to the base and back again.

“It really is. What should we do for it?”

“We should probably relieve the pressure. I’m going to remove two fingers so that I can reach around and masturbate you properly. Wouldn’t want to leave you with blue balls.”

“No. I definitely wouldn’t like that.”

“I need lube for my left hand but I can’t reach it without removing my right. Just relax a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Hurry!”

“Just realized that my clothes are a mess. I should probably take those off while I’m at it.”

John removed his fingers and hurriedly divested himself of his clothes. Grabbing the lube from the night stand, he added a judicious amount to his left palm. Setting the lube back on the table, he situated himself more comfortably between Sherlock’s spread thighs. 

“Ready?”

“Please, John. Do it. Do it now before I pass out due to the lack of blood to my brain.”

“Not the Mind Palace!! Oh no! We can’t allow that to happen!” Bending over Sherlock, John realized that Sherlock’s arse was too high in the air and that wouldn’t do. He had plans for that arse.

“Spread your thighs a bit more, sweetheart. I need your arse a little lower than that if this is going to work.”

Without a word, Sherlock obediently lowered himself closer to the bed. The head of his cock almost brushing the mattress. John noticed that Sherlock was now leaking pre-come. He’d better get started before Sherlock spilled all on his own.

Kneeling behind Sherlock, John slid his cock between Sherlock’s cheeks. Some of the slick had begun leaking out making frotting incredibly erotic. 

“John?”

“You’re not about to tell me to stop, I hope.”

“No. Let’s just be honest.”

“Ok.”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Sherlock asked, a little breathlessly.

John stopped moving and pressed his cock firmly against Sherlock’s arse. “God, yes!”

“I want you to fuck me too.” This last was said on a sigh.

“Say ‘please’,” John joked.

“John. Please insert your big, fat cock into my arse and fuck me until I can’t walk.”

“What about the Omega Brothel script? There’s a schedule,” John protested half-heartedly.

“We have all day, John. If you’d slide your cock in right now, I’d be appreciative.”

“How appreciative?”

Sherlock looked over his shoulder and giving John a smoldering look, said, “Very…”

“Oh, god,” John moaned.

Holding onto Sherlock’s hips with both hands, John slid his cock between his buttocks a few more times, the slick making it glide like a hot knife through butter. 

He moved down a bit more until his cock was pressing against Sherlock’s hole. Normally, he’d use his hand to guide himself in but it seemed slippery enough not to need to do that.

“Fuck me! Fuck me, John, please!”

Moving slowly, John pushed until he was seated balls to balls, against Sherlock’s arse.

“Oh my god! This slick, sorry, ‘secretion’, is the best lube we’ve ever used! I wonder if we can get more?” John said, as he withdrew and then slipped in again effortlessly. “And you smell wonderful! Just, something about your scent makes me want to fuck you even harder.”

“Actions speak louder than words, John,” Sherlock said although the sarcasm was ruined by his heavy panting and obvious desire.

“Grab your cock for me, that’s it. Squeeze it. Now, stroke it. Big long strokes. God, aren’t you just gorgeous,” John said, leaning over to watch Sherlock begin to jerk himself off. He’d never been this turned on before. Whatever was in those suppositories, it had a direct effect on his libido.

Sherlock began to push his lovely arse back against John’s cock. So much so, that at a certain point, John just stopped moving and enjoyed the view as Sherlock continued to fuck himself on John’s cock. 

Sherlock was holding himself up from the bed with one hand, and pumping his cock with the other. It was insanely hot.

John began pounding again as Sherlock pulled away. He had such a firm grip on Sherlock’s hips that he could actually see the bruises forming.

“Sherlock. I want to try something.”

“Anything, John. God, anything. So long as involves us fucking.”

“I want to drive my cock into you as hard as I can and just hold still while you get yourself off. I want to know what it’s like when you’re focused on how you feel. I want to watch you masturbate and feel you contract around me as you come. Not because of something that I did, but something that you did or imagined yourself. I want to hear what you say when you’re alone. I want you to use me as a tool, as if I weren’t here.”

“Yes. Ok, yes.” Sherlock took himself in hand again and began slowly stroking his shaft, pressing his buttocks back even harder against John’s hips.

“Oh. Fuck John. I fucking love you. I love your big cock inside of me, filling me up, making me feel every inch of you. Unh…” Sherlock groaned pushing back and grinding his buttocks against John’s hips.

“I want you to take me whenever YOU want it. If you decide that you want me bent over the back of the couch with your cock buried deep inside me, I want that too. I want that too. Ahh…” 

Sherlock began fucking himself on John’s cock. Shallow thrusts at first, followed by long, slow pumps, building the passion slowly. Deliberately. This might just be the hottest fucking thing that John had ever seen. He was afraid that he might come before Sherlock was finished and he definitely did NOT want that to happen so he grit his teeth and looked away so that he could cool down a bit. God. What a show! 

“John. John. John. John. John. I love your cock. I want to suck it until your eyes roll back in your head. Until you’re so hard that you feel faint. I want to suck your cock until I can feel your orgasm building. Until you can’t stand waiting anymore so you run your fingertips through my hair and then grab my head and just fuck my mouth. Make me take it. I want to feel your spasms as you come. I want to lick your cock head until I’ve cleaned every bit of come from you.”

“Christ! I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. You’re driving me crazy! I don’t want to ruin it because this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen but that’s the problem. It’s amazing and I’m about to lose it.” Still, John only held onto Sherlock’s hips, unmoving while Sherlock did all the work.

“I’m almost there,” Sherlock groaned. “Almost…there…” Sherlock thrust back once more onto John’s cock and then held himself against John while pumping his own cock with his fist.

“Unh! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Sherlock’s hole began clenching around John’s cock as he came and John couldn’t wait anymore. He began thrusting even as Sherlock was going through the final throes of his orgasm.

One stroke, two strokes, “Sherlock! Sherlock! Oh my god! I’m coming!” And, on the third stroke, John emptied himself into Sherlock. It seemed to go on for a long time. He kept thinking that he was done only to find his orgasm still pulsing out of him.

When he’d finally finished, he wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s abdomen and pulled them both onto their sides so that they could spoon. His cock slowly softening and slipping out of Sherlock’s hole, he sniffed then licked his neck and nestled himself as close as possible against Sherlock’s back and arse. 

Running his fingers through Sherlock’s damp curls, John said,

“That was unbelievable. You were so hot. I’ve never been so turned on in all of my life. Do you really say all of those things when you masturbate? Do you really toss off to me?”

“Yes, only not out loud. You wanted to know and I discovered that I wanted you to know too.” Sherlock said, still panting a bit. Pulling John’s hand from his hair, he pressed a kiss to his wrist and then placed his hand between Sherlock’s own and held it against his chest.

“I do love you, John.”

“And I you.” John nuzzled between the curls and kissed Sherlock’s ear.

“We should probably get up. We’ve made quite a mess. One that’s rapidly cooling. It’s going to be unpleasant if we lay here much longer.”

“I don’t mind,” Sherlock said, wiggling his back into John.

“Love, if it was only up to me, we would stay in bed all day. I wish we could but we still have the Omega script to perform.”

“John, I’m exhausted. We both need a few hours sleep or we won’t be able to perform at all.”

“True.” John relaxed his body further into the bed. “But no more than an hour or two.”

“Thank you. And, John?” Sherlock said, a smile in his voice.

“Yes?” John asked, already half asleep.

“I agree with you.”

Opening one eye, John said, “You do?”

“Yes. We definitely need to get a supply of those suppositories.”

“Absolutely,” John said, closing his eye.

“The slick is amazing!”

Sitting up a bit, John looked at Sherlock and said, “I thought that you preferred ‘secretion’?”

“No, ‘slick’ definitely defines what it does.”

“It’s a lot sexier, that’s for sure.” John said, laying down again.

“One more thing.”

“Yes?” John wasn’t paying that much attention anymore.

“When this case has finished, we’re going to repeat this performance; I’ll be the Alpha and you’ll be the Omega.”

“Deal.”

“Only, this time, we’re going to do things a little differently,” Sherlock whispered to himself.

“Huh?” John muttered. Clearly almost completely asleep.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. Just thinking about the many ways that I plan on fucking you until you cry ‘uncle.’”

“Tha’s nice,” John sighed. “Go sleep now.” Patting Sherlock on the hip, he began breathing deeply. There’d be no more conversation with John for awhile.

Unfortunately, Sherlock was now wide awake, mentally running through the dildos in the living room. One had been exceptionally large but the slick should allow that to ease into John with barely any resistance.

Sherlock plotted for the next 15 minutes or so, until he too, gradually fell asleep and continued plotting even in his dreams, John blissfully unaware of the variety of ways that Sherlock planned on sodomizing him.

Sighing, they snuggled closer together and slept.

This was going to be fun…


	3. The Main Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock play at being an Alpha and Omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me apologize for the quality of this chapter. It's flat out awful. I've struggled with it for over a month and actually considered abandoning it several times. My imagination seems to be on an extended break. On the flip side, I hate when a fic leaves me hanging and would rather have a subpar finale than none at all which brings us to the final chapter of Nostalgic For Suicide.
> 
> Not beta'd. Not Brit-picked. A bit not good.

“Sherlock, please. I just want to talk to you. No sex, I promise.” John said, banging his fist on Sherlock’s bedroom door for the third time.

“No. Not until you calm down.”

“I AM calm!” John yelled, pressing his forehead to the door with a sigh. 

“You don’t sound very calm.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” John said placatingly.

“I’m fine! I can handle this on my own.” 

“You can’t, though. You really can’t. I estimate that you have about an hour left before you go into a full heat. Haven’t you noticed the changes?”

“What changes?” Sherlock asked, curious in spite of himself.

“Can we please discuss this face to face?”

“No, John. I can hear you perfectly well through the door. Continue.”

“Extreme irritability.” John said. “Not that anyone could tell the difference.” John muttered under his breath.

“Aren’t your, em…nipples tender to the touch now?”

“Maybe.” Sherlock said, placing a fingertip on a nipple experimentally. Oh. That was good.

“You’ve gradually begun producing slick that’s been steadily increasing throughout the day.”

“So? Could be a cold.” Sherlock tried.

“A cold? In your arse? Really?” John said, becoming frustrated now.

“Stranger things have happened!”

‘Can’t argue with that,’ John thought.

“Your cock has been at half mast all day and is now almost completely erect.”

Sherlock looked down, noticing for the first time that he had been stroking his cock and it was most definitely fully erect.

“Um…phlebitis!” Sherlock exclaimed triumphantly, still stroking his cock.

Sighing, John said, “I’m not even going to dignify that one with an answer.” 

“Good. I win.” Sherlock said, kicking his trousers and pants off. He’d dropped them around his ankles as soon as he’d gone into his room so they didn’t have far to go. ‘Won’t be needing those for awhile,’ he thought.

“This isn’t a contest, but you’re right. I give up.”

“You do?” 

Did Sherlock sound disappointed?

“Yep.” John said with a predatory smile. Stepping back from the door now, he folded his arms across his chest and waited.

“John?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still there?” Sherlock had moved to the door and placed his hand on it. He felt…different. He actually wanted to let John into his room now which made no sense. He couldn’t really be in heat, could he?

“Yes.”

God that man could be exasperating! First he was constantly talking and now he was just giving him one word answers. Never mind the fact that he was asking questions that only required one word answers. God. He really WAS irritated.

Sherlock began to make a sarcastic comment but he really did want John to come in now. What if he made him so angry that he left the flat completely? He’d been known to do that before. Then what would he do?

“You only want to talk, right?” Sherlock asked even though he was now picturing John standing in front of him, naked, cock in hand, stroking it. Sherlock shuddered. Maybe a brief chat wouldn’t hurt. 

He hurried to his bed, drew the top sheet over his lap and made a, what he considered, nonchalant pose - it wasn’t - and said,

“You can come in now.”

As the doorknob turned, Sherlock looked down to see his cock standing at attention beneath the sheet. The saying ‘pitching a tent’ now making sense.

He hurriedly dragged a pillow over, covering his erection and pressing it down over his cock. Sherlock groaned and pressed the pillow down again; this time a bit more firmly. Now he was all but masturbating with his pillow. 

Quickly pulling his hand away, he look up at John standing in the doorway and said, “Well? What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until later?”

Stepping into the bedroom, John closed the door behind him with a quiet click. 

“How are you feeling?” John asked. Just then, he breathed in the delicious scent of pheromones that Sherlock’s body was producing, signaling his readiness to mate. 

Breath hitching, John said, “Never mind. I think already know.”

Walking slowly to Sherlock’s side, he asked, “Mind if I sit next to you?”

“Where else would you sit?”

John glanced over at the chair clearly visible in the corner but said nothing. He didn’t want to argue. Especially not now that he’d gotten into the Sherlock’s bedroom.

He sat down next to Sherlock, thighs not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat now radiating from Sherlock’s body. John had always been proud of his self-control but that had been casual sex, not someone he actually cared deeply about. He realized that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d first thought.

“Out of curiosity, why would you wait so long to experience your first true heat?” Most heats started at puberty but without the biological imperative to procreate. That usually occurred around age eighteen which, at 34, Sherlock was well beyond.

“It started when I was thirteen and it was a viscous mess. I felt itchy and dirty which was intolerable so I went to Mycroft and he said that there was a solution for that; heat suppressants.” 

John rolled his finger indicating that Sherlock should continue.

“He warned me that I had to stop taking them once every ten years to ensure that it hadn’t affected my ability to breed. As soon as the first heat was over, I could begin taking them again and go on for another ten years.”

“So, first heat per ten year cycle?” 

“Yes, John. That’s what I said.”

“And this is the first heat that you’ve had in ten years?” 

“Well…” Sherlock hedged.

“Oh, Lord. When was your last heat?”

“I don’t pay attention. It’s all transport. I had it under control so why stop? I’m obviously fine and I don’t want children so what difference does it make?”

“Let me get this straight. You’ve been taking suppressants for the past, what, 21 years?” 

“Your math skills are still sharp, I see. All those years at university weren’t wasted.” Sherlock said haughtily.

“Don’t change the subject. This is not healthy, Sherlock. What made you stop taking them now because I know that it wasn’t by choice.”

“No one can make me do anything against my will, John. You of all people should know that.”

“Ah. It was Mycroft. Did he threaten to cut off your supply?”

“I cannot be threatened. The prescription ran out.”

“After 21 years? It just ‘ran out’? Why didn’t you just have it refilled like every other time?”

“Because…well, if you must know, Mycroft told our doctor to stop prescribing them until I’d finally gone through a “normal” heat. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“You could have just seen a different doctor and gotten it from them. Or you could have asked me.”

Sherlock just stared at him. 

“First of all, I’m not about to go through my entire medical history with some…stranger! And, secondly, you would have said no.”

“So, in other words; you had no choice.” John smirked.

“I certainly did! I chose to go through this buggering heat. My choice. You yourself just listed my options.”

John thought back. Had he ever heard Sherlock curse? He didn’t think so. Sherlock was obviously close to losing control, with John not far behind. 

“Is everything ok down there?” John nodded towards Sherlock’s lap where he was now grinding the pillow against his groin.

“What? Oh. This? Just keeping my hands busy.” Sherlock patted the pillow for emphasis and then let his hand rest on top. That didn’t last long though, and he began trying to covertly slide the pillow back and forth against his cock again almost immediately.

“I can help you with that if you’ll let me.”

“And how would you help me, John?”

“Well, first, I’d get rid of this pillow,” John said, pulling it from under Sherlock’s hand and tossing it aside, exposing an impressive erection. 

Sherlock pulled the sheet up closer to his chest looking rather like a Victorian virgin on her wedding night.

“Then what?” He asked breathlessly, eyes big.

“Then I’d remove this sheet.” John said, picking up the edge and slowly dragged it down over Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock shivered.

“And then?”

“Then, I’d place kisses all over your body.”

“Show me.”

John cupped his hands on Sherlock’s cheeks and leaned in to kiss him chastely on the forehead. Then he kissed each cheek followed by deeply kissing his lips.

John kissed his way down Sherlock’s neck sensuously, pausing to bite and lick Sherlock’s scent gland. Sherlock had begun panting.

Eventually working his way down to Sherlock’s nipples, John gave each attention one at a time by sucking and blowing on them until they were hard. He licked very tips, tickling them with his tongue, then slowly laved each areola. Sherlock drew in a sharp breath and waited to see what John would do next.

John had gotten to Sherlock’s navel and gave the skin around it a quick nip. Then he stopped and looked up at Sherlock and waited.

“What are you doing? Don’t stop.” Sherlock asked, voice husky.

“I promised no sex but I’m afraid that I’m at the end of my self-control. If I go any further, I’m going to want to fuck you. Actually, I want to fuck you right now. I can only take so much and you smell good enough to eat. So you need to decide right now if you’re going to allow that to happen; I won’t proceed without your express content.”

“I don’t want you to stop. My cock is so hard that I could hammer nails with it. Please. More.”

John chuckled and then placing a hand in the middle of Sherlock’s chest, he pushed him down until he was flat on the bed, feet still on the floor, arse over the edge.

“My pleasure.” 

Getting on his knees between Sherlocks legs, John began kissing Sherlock’s balls, trailing kisses up his shaft until he’d reached the tip of his cock which was now leaking pre-come.

John ran his palm over the head, distributing the available lubricant. Looking up, he saw that Sherlock had his eyes closed, plump lips parted, taking slow, deep breaths.

John wrapped his lips around the head of Sherlock’s cockand began languorously sliding his mouth up and down until Sherlock frantically reached over and tangled his fingers in John’s hair.

When Sherlock couldn’t take the teasing anymore; he began thrusting his cock up into John’s mouth while forcing his head down on it. 

“John. John. No more teasing. You’re driving me insane. Please. I want you. I need you, now.” Sherlock’s voice had become even lower, he sounded almost desperate, the idea of which caused John’s cock to throb.

Placing a hand around each wrist, John slowly removed Sherlock’s hands from his hair and glanced up, Sherlock’s cock still in his mouth. 

Sherlock had lifted up onto his elbows and was watching John intently. He looked desperate and needy, biting his lower lip. With his mussed curls, pupils so large that his eyes appeared black, John felt a stab of lust shoot directly to his groin. 

John slid up and off the head of his cock with a twirling lick of his tongue and giving Sherlock a sultry gaze, nodded in agreement.

He lifted Sherlock’s thighs up onto his shoulders forcing Sherlock to fall back onto the bed.

John licked Sherlock from the base of his balls, down along his perineum until he reached the cleft between Sherlock’s buttocks, lapping at the slick that had increased to the point where the sheets were now damp with it. 

“You taste so good, Sherlock.” And then he plunged his tongue into Sherlock’s warm, damp hole.

Sherlock groaned, rising up from the bed.

“What are you doing? Sherlock asked, voice ending on a groan as John thrust his tongue into him once again.

Lifting his head from between Sherlock’s cheeks, John said, “I had to taste you. I told you that you were good enough to eat. Don’t you like it?”

“God, yes! And I’d love to revisit it at a later date however, I need your cock inside me right now before I push you down onto the floor and fuck you myself.”

John stood without a word and stepping from between Sherlock’s thighs, took hold of his ankles flipping him onto his stomach.

Sherlock pulled his legs up beneath himself and presented his arse to John. Looking down, John realized that he was still fully dressed, right down to his shoes and socks. His cock straining against his pants trapped behind too tight trousers, John crouched down and began untying his shoes hurriedly.

“John! What’s taking so long? I need you inside me right now!” 

John glanced up to see that Sherlock was now rocking back and forth on his knees, rubbing the tip of his cock against the duvet.

“Right.” John stood up, unzipped his trousers and hooking his thumbs inside his pants and trousers, pushed both articles of clothing down, letting them finish their trip to his ankles on their own.

Grasping Sherlock’s hips, John placed his cock against Sherlock needy hole and began slowly pressing inside.

“Yes! Deeper!” Sherlock cried out.

John, always eager to please, pulled Sherlock back towards him until he was completely seated on his cock.

“Oh my god! Go, John. Go! Go! Go! Go! GO!!” Sherlock cried out.

John began slamming into Sherlock causing him to inch forward on the bed with every thrust, Sherlock pushing back on each withdrawal. 

Pulling Sherlock close, John moved his hands up along Sherlock’s spine until he was resting a hand on each shoulder. John paused, admiring the lovely, pale skin on his back, the way his shoulders were tensed, waiting for his next move.

Sherlock wiggled his arse impatiently on John’s cock, saying, “Please John. No more teasing. Fuck me like you mean it!”

“You want it rough? I’ll give it to you rough.” 

Using his hold on Sherlock’s shoulders, John began to piston violently in and out of Sherlock, gripping his shoulders so tightly that skin looked bloodless. There’d be bruises there in the morning.

“You’re so tight! I love watching my cock glide in and out of your slick hole.” John brushed against Sherlock’s prostate on his next thrust.

Sherlock moaned.

“You love my cock in you, don’t you? Don’t you?! Answer me!” John said in his best captain’s voice.

“Yes. Yes. I love it! I love being pounded so hard that I can feel it in my bones!” 

“And who do you belong to?” John demanded.

“You! Only you! Forever! You!! God. I love you so much! Love you…love you…love you…” Sherlock’s voice trailed off on a particularly satisfying stroke.

“I want to bite your neck and leave my mark on you for everyone to see. I want there to be no mistake; Sherlock Holmes belongs to John Watson!

Will you take my knot, Sherlock? Would you share a bond with me and make our relationship more than just the physical? I love you so very much.” 

“Yes! Do it! Bite me now!” Sherlock pleaded.

John pulled Sherlock up by his shoulders until his back rested against John’s chest, John’s knees pressed against the side of the bed to brace them both for what came next. 

Withdrawing his cock from Sherlock completely and then slamming it home again, John began kissing and licking Sherlock’s scent gland until he was lost in passion. Then he struck, biting Sherlock roughly, breaking the formerly unmarked skin.

Sherlock froze, lowering his head in the submissive position of an Omega surrendering to his Alpha.

Still holding onto Sherlock’s neck with his teeth, John began to slowly fuck Sherlock until he felt his knot growing. Licking Sherlock’s neck to close the puncture wounds, John pushed Sherlock back onto the bed and mid-thrust yelled,

“Take my knot! Take all of it! You’re mine now.” And with one final push, John’s knot was forced inside of Sherlock’s hole, linking them both together.

John reached around to grasp Sherlock’s cock and Sherlock began fucking his hand, urgently. Desperately.

“I’m coming, John! Come with me! I want to feel you come inside of me!”

As Sherlock’s hole began to clench around his cock, John slammed his hips forward a final time, threw his head back and came for what seemed a long time until finally collapsing, exhausted, on Sherlock’s back.

Moving Sherlock forward to give John room to place his knees on the bed, John moved them until they had enough room to lay on their sides while waiting for John’s knot to go down.

“God, Sherlock! That was…that was fantastic!” John said, hugging Sherlock to himself.

“It was. It was. We’ll have to do this again sometime when we’re not on the clock. Minus the “knot”, please.”

“You didn’t like it?” John had thoroughly enjoyed that part and had hoped to repeat it.

“I was fine but it’s not something that I’d like to do on the regular. I’m fairly confident that I’m going to be feeling a phantom knot in my arse for days to come.”

“I apologize for biting so hard that I broke your skin, Sherlock. I got carried away in the heat of the moment.” John said sheepishly.

Sherlock reached up to his shoulder and touched the wound. When he brought his hand back down, there was blood on his fingertips.

“I liked that part. It was…sexy. Hot. It hurts like hell right now, though. Still, I DO have another shoulder available.” Sherlock smiled.

“I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to get into this particular script,” Sherlock said. “But, god. Once we both committed to our roles, I just forgot about real life. I would have let you do anything to me. Anything.”

“God, Sherlock. Stop! My cock’s just now softening and that kind of talk is only going to make it hard again. I’d like to take this artificial knot off sometime in the near future.”

“That’s actually getting a bit uncomfortable.” Now that the adrenaline had passed, Sherlock’s body was beginning to ache in earnest. 

Noting that bruises in the shape of John’s fingertips were beginning to appear on Sherlock’s shoulders and hipbones, John realized that Sherlock was going to move beyond ‘uncomfortable’ fairly soon.

“Sorry. I’m trying.”

“No. This is not happening. Get it out, John. Get it out, now. The afterglow has gone and all that I’m basking in is the pain.” Sherlock said between clenched teeth.

“I really am trying.” John said, hand now on the base of his cock where the knot ended in Sherlock’s hole.

“Try harder!” Sherlock demanded.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Just be patient.” John gripped the end of the knot and began easing it out.

“No. Now, John!” And as John pulled backwards, Sherlock pulled himself forward, the knot escaping and causing a cry of pain from Sherlock.

“I told you to wait. So impatient. Now you’ve hurt yourself.”

“God! This is worse. Definitely worse. I’m beginning to miss The Reichenbach Fall script.

“You hated that one. You were bruised all over for weeks.” John said as he examined the damage that Sherlock had done to his hole by pulling himself off of the dildo so fast. Reaching into the nightstand drawer and withdrawing a tube of antibiotic ointment, John put a generous dollop on his fingers and lightly pressing against Sherlock’s hole, began to massage the ointment in and around his rim.

“Yes but my arsehole was fine. No intercourse in that one. I never thought I’d see the day that…OW! Easy back there. I’m not a machine,” Sherlock huffed.

“You have only yourself to blame, you know,” John said, finishing up his ministrations to Sherlock’s battered and bruised hole.

John gave Sherlock’s buttocks two pats and said, “There. It wasn’t that bad although it’s going to be tender for quite awhile. Let’s nap for a bit and then we’ll get you into the bath and try to ease some of the stiffness that you’re going to be feeling when you wake up.”

Sherlock, trying to move himself into a more comfortable position, suddenly yelped when his ravaged shoulder hit the pillow.

“Ow! Goddamn it!”

“I’ll grab some paracetamol and a glass of water. Be right back,” John said as he hurried to collect both items.

After an lengthy absence, according to Sherlock, John return and promptly placed the tablets in Sherlock’s outstretched hand followed by the glass of water. With a far away look in his eyes, Sherlock popped the tablets into his mouth, chasing them back with a mouthful.

“What is it?” John asked

“I’d thought that Reichenbach was bad but I never thought that we’d get yet another script that was going to take me days from which to recover.”

“Um…” John started.

“Oh, lord. What has Mycroft done now?”

“It seems that while we were…acting…Mycroft entered the flat and deposited another script on the kitchen table,” John said, looking pensive.

“Well? Out with it. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s a BDSM script. I’m the Dom and you’re the Sub.” John hunched his shoulders, waiting for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“I’m a bottom? AGAIN?! Well, I can tell you one thing; you won’t be getting near THIS bottom anytime soon!”

Sherlock looked at John who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“What? It gets worse?”

“It seems that I’m to play someone called “Dark!John.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well…it would seem that I’m a very abusive Dom with nefarious plans for your body.

“That’s just fantastic! Who’s writing this stuff? Each new script has been more vile the last!”

“No idea.” John said innocently knowing full well that he’d written the current script and left it where it was easily found. He just hoped that Mycroft wouldn’t out him.

“And just when are we supposed to act this one out?”

“Three days.”

Struck dumb, Sherlock stood, mouth agape, staring at John.

“Three days?” Sherlock croaked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of these injuries so that you’re ready to perform on Wednesday.” John said helpfully.

“Bring me the script to read.”

As soon as John had returned with the script, Sherlock ripped it out of his hands and pulled out the summery page.

His eyes moving rapidly down the page to find the action scenes.

“Gags? ‘Face fucking?’ Parsnips? ‘Figging?’ What the hell is ‘figging?’

“Dunno. I’ll Google it and let you know.” John said, trying hard not to grin.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, John, but I’m beginning to feel nostalgic for suicide.”


End file.
